20th February 2024

 

weatherbeaten

waiting under the lilac tree

for spring

© Rachel Green February 2025

I would not show my grief in public gaze

when as a child my mother passed away

When confronted I would just avert my gaze

inclined to mourn my loss another day.

In private, though, away from family eyes

I'd cry and bawl and sing with all my lung

for what do children know about goodbyes

except the lies we're told when we are young.

I was raised to fear the God of Catholic faith

and strive to purge myself of all my sin;

enquire not why thought would trigger wrath

and learn the contradictory doctrine.

 I hid myself instead in wardrobes full

 of Mammy's scent that clung to fur and wool

© Rachel Green February 2025